Earnest was slightly off-set by his mother having such a cutting insight into the inner workings of Queen G. Maybe she'd had a lot of time to think about it, or the men at the table were simply all to dim to understand why Gen would have decided to go for the throat. Be that as it may, Earnest didn't feel like he'd done anything wrong in politely asking, even if it seemed like this debacle was somehow being placed on his shoulders. But maybe that was just Cynthia's reaction and Uncle Oz's pointed questions.

Oz's strategic proposal validated what Earnest had already done, sought out Augusta Wilde (without telling anybody) and she'd gotten into his head that his fate was better off severed from his family's. He decided to continue, for the moment, to behave as if Oz's suggestion was a novel one. Earnest sat back and looked receptive.

"Whatever you think will help," he said. It did something for his usually well concealed ego to hear his public status as an athelete was so important.

"My side's rather straightforward," he said of the 'narrative'. "We've been seeing each other since just after New Year's eve. I found out about the connection, called if off. She over-reacted."

He could say all of it without getting red. Across the table Cynthia had gone blank-stared. She, unlike the others, was mostly ignored by the press.

He wanted to believe he was above it - the gossip rags and scandals - but even if he was, as an individual, Oz reminded Solomon that they would all be affected by this. Earnest was indeed going to be in the spotlight as a result of the announcement in a couple of days.

       "Well you don't want to bring up the connection with anyone..." the older wizard reminded him dryly.
"She doesn't admit to it in her letter," Sol added as he tried to make some headway with his meal. "Or to Earnest, really."

That had been one of the reasons he felt less than anxious about the whole thing. Gen had been outrageously vague; she did what all the good gossips did and left most of it to sordid public imagination.

Oswald put down his wine glass, clearing his throat. "Earnest is the most palatable aspect of all this," he smiled mildly. "Speaking of which, I do quite like that: she overreacted. Very good."

Overreaction seemed like an understatement in Sol's eyes but he didn't say so out loud.

"I take it that's what we'll be telling our friends," he glanced from lawyer to wife. "Earnest broke it off with Gen, she went for my throat? I suppose it will have to do."

After making her own suggestion, Irene once more fell silent. It took a lot for her to agree to putting herself out in the public domain, and the gesture had been completely brushed over. While she didn’t feel resentful about that, she certainly wasn’t going to keep participating in this conversation if Solomon’s lawyer ignored what she had to say and continue with his own agenda.

Statements were something Irene loathed being asked for. According to Oz, her usual, ‘no comment’ wouldn’t do in this situation. Her gaze shot to Earnest for a flickering moment, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt for not having congratulated him yet on the highlight of his career. Sadly, his accomplishment had been shadowed by the Queen G debacle. She would catch him later, when Oz had gone.

“Perhaps.” Commented Irene as she put down her glass and stabbed a piece of beef. She needed to eat, she knew that, but her appetite had disappeared with this conversation. “Witch Weekly won’t be the only one to pick this up now, will they?” The other papers and magazines would want to investigate if there was any truth in it.

Oswald Prewett
Attorney, Slaughter Fulbright.

He thought it all relatively straightforward - of course it was Solomon's interest that Oz wished to protect, and it was in his interest that eyes were turned on to Earnest instead.

"Naturally," he nodded at Irene after a swallow of the stew. "You needn't worry Irene. Just go about your life as you always do, dear."

That is, with her head in the ground. She had hidden from public opinion all this time, taking pretty pictures, and Oswald had no interest in what she had to say about the situation. Her concerns were obvious enough.

       "I'll drop a line by Cuffe perhaps," Solomon mused.
"Yes, though I daresay he'll be a step ahead of you."

Barnabas Cuffe had practically sold the public on the election of Minister Carstairs and he was not one to let a horse of his lose the race.

       "And that's it?" Cynthia spoke up, disbelieving. "We're just going to leave the rest of it to Earnest old boy?"

There was a bitterness in her voice that brought a frown to Oswald's countenance but when he spoke it was as mild as ever. "Lean on word of mouth, child. Faster than print. Ms. Garcia's made enough enemies for it to take."

The woman had trod on the toes of her social superiors in those tawdry shoes, forgetting they were her bread and butter. Nobody cared for Queen G if she wasn't fucking them.